One Hundred And One
by Toni42
Summary: What right do we have? To love? To kill? To create? What right do we have to do what we do, to say what we say, to live as we live? What point is there in making friends, in making family? What right do we have to tear others apart, to tear ourselves apart? We have no right. There is no point. But we do it anyway. (101 Day Writing Challenge. More information on my profile.)
1. Running Nowhere

**WARNING: Rather dark content. Background character death. Brief mentions of gore. Murder.**

* * *

 **101 Day Writing Challenge**

 _Day One:_

 _Write about your favourite character(s)._

* * *

Zane:

Running Nowhere

* * *

He awoke to an empty house.

Nausea hit him unexpectantly, causing his vision to blur and for the ground to sway dangerously closer to his pounding head.

Slowly, the nausea passed, allowing him to take in his surroundings. His eyes (what colour were his eyes?) strayed to the empty bed in front of him and an unexpected, unexplainable panic rose in his chest.

His head snapped to and fro, breathing starting to become ragged, searching for... searching for...

What was he searching for?

A gust of frigid wind caused him to shiver, then jump as it blew open the door, which banged loudly against the wall. It caused his heart (...heart?) to start pounding against his chest, his fingers to start trembling, his breath to quicken.

The walls were closing in on him. Smaller, smaller, smaller, until he could touch either side if he spread his arms. The shadows stretched along the floor, danced in the corners, reaching for him with large, clawed, skeletal hands.

His brain told him to run, but his legs carried the order out clumsily. He tripped over his own two feet, landing painfully on his arm, then immediately scrambled back up. His feet pounded loudly against the wooden stairs, which groaned and squeaked in protest. He burst out the door, getting a face full of frost and snow that numbed his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

He looked around, breaths coming out in puffs of white, but he could see nothing but snow and the faint outlines of trees.

Unthinking, his brain clouded in a haze of fear and confusion, he began to run.

Running nowhere.

* * *

He slept on the streets.

If he were lucky, he'd find something edible in the bins, or a passerby would take pity on him (he hated pity, _but he needed it_ ) and give him money or food. A woman had even given him an old patchwork blanket she'd been in the process of throwing out.

It was with this very same patchwork blanket that he sat in an alley, shivering and trembling, the fabric only doing so much to keep him warm in the freezing snow.

Often times, he found himself loving the snow, the ice, the beauty and the fun that could be done with such weather. But there are times when he despised it, when he wishes for someplace warmer, someplace where he'll have a better chance of surviving the night.

Whenever he could, he worked. While he was not the best at robotics, he found that he was descent with mechanics. He'd help out people around the town, fix their waggons, walk their dogs, help rebuild and do errands. He'd sometimes take messages from one side of town to the other, for a small fee.

He soon became known as the Link Boy. Or, to some of the less pleasant people of the town, the Link Rat.

He still couldn't remember his name. It was not Link. Nor was it Rat.

He knew what his name was. He knew that he knew. He just couldn't remember it.

This is what scared him most.

* * *

"Link Rat!" Edwards called, his fat face red from the wind, "Get over here!"

Immediately, he tumbled from his precious patchwork blanket, shaking snow from his damp, dirty rags that used to be clothes. It was still cold, freezingly so, and while he had found that he did not mind the cold all that much, even he had his limit.

With his blanket wrapped around his shoulder, careful to make sure it didn't drag on the slushy ground, he stumbled on numb legs towards the large man standing at the entrance of the alley.

Edwards looked him over with a critical eye, obviously unimpressed with what he saw, although there was a hint of sympathy, albeit barely, in his eyes. He shook his head, turning away. "I need you to deliver a message to Gustave for me. I'll give you five... ten coins. And I'll throw in a pair of old mittens."

Eagerly, he nodded. Edwards grunted.

"Tell him that Ms Malynda wants that necklace to have sapphires instead of rubies and that it's gotta be done by the end of the week. You got that?"

He nodded, already tieing the blanket around him so he could carry it better and still help keep him warm. Edwards nodded too.

"Good." he dug a fat hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out five little coins, handing them to the boy, "You'll get the rest once you're done."

"Th-Thank you." he stuttered, slipping the coins into a small pouch he kept tied around his waist with numb fingers.

"I'll be at Omead's Inn." said Edwards, already walking away, "Meet me there for the rest of your payment."

Despite the cold that slashed at his exposed face and legs, he began to run through the snow, skidding on the ice, the frost seeping into his already damp clothes and blanket.

The coins jingled in his little pouch as he ran through the town of Birchbite.

When he finally found Edwards later that night, his dead body hung from the ceiling by a hook through his throat.

* * *

There were more murders as time went on.

They were random, directed towards random people, and got even more brutal with each attack. The butcher's daughter, whom he had been smitten with for the past few weeks (although as was half the other boys in Birchbite), was found in a dumpster without a head. The bakers, a lovely lesbian couple who were expecting, had woken up all of Birchbite with their screams when they opened the pantry to find the dead body of Nicolas Peg, who had worked at the mill with his wife and brother, with his eyes gouged out of his skull.

All of Birchbite was as tense as a bowstring. At nightfall, doors were locked up tight, windows were shuttered, lights were put out, and the adults slept with weapons under their pillows and one eye wide open. As the sun set, you could see people dashing to their homes, parents urgently ushering their children inside.

But he had little choice.

The blacksmith, Gustave, was a kind man, in his middle fifties. His wife had died years ago and his son and daughter had long since moved away to have children of their own, although that did not mean they didn't keep in contact.

Gustave often gave him small jobs to do for a reasonable amount of pay, as well as food and water. He even gave him some old clothes, although they were a little large and hung off his body. But they were better than his rags.

"Here you are, son," the old blacksmith said, handing the Link Boy the necklace Ms Malynda had ordered, neatly wrapped in brown cloth, "Stay safe out there, a'right?"

He nodded, giving Gustave a grateful smile, and jogged out into the snow. Ms Malynda lived all the way on the other side of town, and the alley he often slept in was right in the middle. It was because of this that she would sometimes send someone to him so he could go to Gustave, usually with requests for jewellery or to deliver something back.

Either way, he was far from minding, for it put a little bit of gold in his pockets.

As he walked, the sun slowly began to set, and his jogging slowly went down to a walk. Some of the children waved as he passed, but were quick to follow their parents inside. Eventually, far sooner than even he had expected, the streets were empty and silent.

He reached his alley as the sun set fully on the horizon, coming to a stop at the entrance. He frowned, looking around the empty street, wondering if he should just deliver the necklace in the morning.

But what if they cut his pay? What if they don't pay him at all? Besides, it's not like he'd be any safer, any warmer in his alley than he is walking to Ms Malynda's house.

He sighed and continued walking.

With every step he took, it slowly got darker, slowly got colder. It was colder than most nights, and soon he was shivering, hugging himself in a fruitless attempt to stay warm. The snow squished and squelched beneath his worn, hole-filled boots, soaking his already damp socks. The wind howled, turning his face bright red, a loose window shutter banging and slamming against the wall.

There was no stars or moon that could be seen, for they were hidden behind clouds. It was dark. It was cold. He was scared.

Someone was giggling.

He stopped, his breath freezing in his throat. There was a long, tense silence, and just as he was about to convince himself he was imagining things, there it was again. A high-pitched giggling that made his blood run colder than ice.

He spun around, heart pounding, his eyes searching the shadows for the one that had been giggling. The street was quiet. The streetlight opposite him flickered.

A long moment passed and nothing happened. Letting out a small sigh of relief, he turned- and came face to chest with a man.

A scream passed his lips but was almost immediately cut off by a large, rough hand, another spinning him around so his back was pressed against the man's chest, an arm holding him in place.

He struggled, thrashing and kicking and screaming into the hand. The man giggled, his breath hot on his ear, whispering under his breath in words his brain was too terrified to register.

The man dragged him into the nearest alley, one that he himself had slept in once or twice, and threw him into a pile of snow. He twisted around, trembling, but then the man was on top of him, a knife just inches from his eye. He tried to scream for help, but his throat wasn't working.

"What should I take this time?" the man giggled to himself, "An ear? His lips? His wittle tail?" He burst into a fit of giggles, as though he had said something incredibly funny.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no." the man tutted. It was hard to see his face in the darkness of the alley, but it appeared slightly lumpy, with a large nose and stubble around his mouth. His shoulders were wide and broad, and he was a lot shorter than what the Link Boy had imagined. The tip of the knife pressed against his left nostril.

"My, my, what a pretty little nose you have." Another giggle, "It will look perfect with the rest of my collection."

The man raised his knife and, finally, a scream tore from his throat. The blade came down swiftly, only to come to a stop inches from his eye, his arms trembling from the effort of stopping it from coming any closer.

"Oh, aren't you a strong one?" the man whispered, putting more weight down, the knife slowly inching closer to his eye, "You surprise me, Link Rat, I'll give you that."

The tip of the knife was now centimetres from his pupil. It was so close that it lightly brushed against his eyeball. He closed his eyes.

Then rammed his knee into the man's back.

A surprised gasp echoed through the alley. He kneed him again, and again, but then the man gave a grunt of annoyance and let go of the knife with one hand, using it to twist slightly and pin his legs to the snow. He struggled, twisting and thrashing, but it was of no use.

"Poor, poor little Link Rat." whispered the man, "Poor, lost, _stupid_ little Link Rat."

With terrifying ease, he yanked the knife from the boy's hands, holding it over his head, showing off his rotten teeth in a face-splitting grin. Instinctively, he covered his face with one arm, his other feeling blindly along the wet ground in a desperate search for a weapon.

His hand closed around something small and rough. He peeked out through his arm. The man brought down his knife.

The rock connected with his face. Then again and again and again, in a spray of blood and teeth, staining the white snow in a bath of crimson.

The man lay still. The rock fell from limp fingers. The jewelled necklace gleamed in the snow as the moon briefly showed itself, having fallen from his pocket at some point. He was covered in blood.

He began to run.

Running nowhere.

* * *

 **Word Count (No AN's): 2104**

 **...You know, this was just supposed to be a Zane character study... what the hell happened to my story?**


	2. Alone (Not Alone)

**101 Day Writing Challenge**

 _Day Two:_

 _Write about your favourite villain(s)._

* * *

Morro:

Alone (Not Alone)

* * *

He was small, even for a little boy. Scrawny and weak. The lack of food had taken its toll, leaving his ribs visible through his skin and making him seem younger than he was. Then again, he wasn't sure how old he was exactly, but that was beside the point.

He was often beaten by the other kids. They did it for sport, to take whatever money or food he'd found, they did it because he was weak and sure to die anyway. He learned to hide food down his shirt and pants and in his shoes because even if they get squished they're still edible.

When he was younger, he'd been taken in by a small group of street rats that liked to call themselves 'the Hounds.' Once it had become clear as he grew older he was more of a liability than an asset, they kicked him out and left him to fend for himself.

He found most of his food in dumpsters behind food joints, and sometimes he'd be able to steal an apple or a slice of bread from the market, or he'd catch a rat, although they tended to be too fast for that more often than not. If he were lucky, he'd get something from begging, like a gold piece or some food.

But begging was dangerous. Begging rose suspicion, begging made it clear that you had nowhere to go, no home to sleep in, no parents to feed and love you. Begging was risky, begging was dangerous because people can try to help you in other ways than just giving you coins.

The Hounds, as well as many other street rats, had told him the horrors of what happens inside an Orphanage. He had no desire to find out whether or not they were true.

So when the blond man with the staff left out a bowl of food for him, he was hesitant, but his hunger soon took over his logic and the food was quickly gone.

A few days later, when the other street rats had cornered him, beat him and stole the food that he'd spent all day gathering, he lay curled up in a bruised ball. He did not cry, for crying was weak, and he was already weak enough.

As his hunger gnawed away at the inside of his stomach, he finally decided to see if the blond man with the staff had left any food out again. He climbed the steps to the Monastery, legs aching and the long walk doing nothing to help ease his hunger. His face still burned from their punches, but thankfully there was nothing broken.

The boy reached the top of the stairs, panting and gasping for breath with a stitch in his side, and was delighted to discover that there was, indeed, another bowl outside the doors.

He stumbled towards it, collapsing against the wall in exhaustion. The contents of the bowl was the same thing as last time, but he couldn't have cared less, and eagerly soothed his raging stomach.

The street rat was so focused on eating, he didn't even notice the doors opening, and this was bad, very bad because if one did not notice then one will end up lying a pile of their own blood. It wasn't until he was moving to sit the bowl back down that he noticed the blond man standing in the doorway.

He jumped, the bowl clattering to the ground, and scrambled away. The blond man held up his hands, a shiny red apple clasped in one of them, in a sign of surrender.

"It's okay." he said, "I'm not here to hurt you."

He did not run away, as the prospect of more food had captured his attention. The man slowly lowered himself so that he was crouching, thus closer to the boy's height. He held out the apple.

"Are you still hungry?"

The boy hesitated, weariness causing his brow to crease, his green eyes darting from the apple to the smiling man's face. Then, slowly, he nodded.

The blond man smiled and sat the apple on the ground in front of him, backing away. He looked from the man to the offered apple, wondering if he could trust him. But he'd given him food before, so why should this time be any different?

Slowly, the young street rat reached out, then quickly snatched up his prize and scurried further away, his teeth tearing apart it's shiny skin and juicy core.

The blond man watched him by the door, but the street rat paid him no heed. Within moments, the apple had been reduced to a split core that was thinner than his bony, sticky fingers, and he wiped the juice from his face with the dirty sleeve of his shirt.

He looked back up at the man, wanting more but petrified at the thought of asking. The blond man simply smiled at him, a kind smile that made his tense body relax if only a little. "Would you like some more, little one?"

He did not answer, instead giving the man a weary look.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently, "You can leave whenever you want."

The street rat glanced over his shoulder, at the bustling town bellow them. He could make out a group of kids, street rats from the way their clothes were too large and their skin was filthy, laughing and chatting to each other, as they made their way to the alley he had taken to sleeping in.

One carried a baseball bat.

He swallowed, turning back to the blond man, who watched him curiously. Something sort of fear must have shown on his face, for the man's eyes danced with concern. He knelt down again, inching a little bit closer to the boy.

"Would you like to come inside?" he asked.

He looked down, chin pressed against his chest, his long, greasy hair falling into his face.

He nodded.

* * *

The man's name was Wu. He asked for his name. The street rat did not have a name.

So the man named him Morro.

* * *

He returned to his alley that night. The other street rats were not there. The few things he'd gathered over the years were gone. His blanket. Spare clothes. A broken comb. A bent umbrella.

He moved to a different alley. Closer to the Monastery. He told himself it had nothing to do with the blond man.

But he knew that was a lie.

* * *

Morro ( _he had a name_ ) went back to the Monastery. Wu gave him food. They started having breakfast together every morning.

Wu did not ask about the bruises.

* * *

A few days passed. Then a few weeks. Wu gave him presents. Clothes, food, a soft, brand new blanket that was the colour of the sea. He let him use his bath. Morro did not know how to use a bath. So Wu helped.

In return, Morro cleaned up. He did everything Wu told him to.

Morro liked the Monastery.

* * *

A kick to the stomach. A punch to the head. Again. Again. Again. Laughter.

Morro did not cry.

* * *

They took his food. They took his blanket. They tore his clothes to shreds. Left him in the mud. Bruised. Fractured bones. They told him he was useless. That he was nothing. They told him Wu would kick him to the streets once he realised what a liability he was.

They told him the truth that he already knew.

* * *

Morro could not move. He lay in the mud, breathing, breathing, refusing to cry. His leg burned. His face throbbed. His entire body screamed in pain. His vision swam.

It began to rain.

* * *

Footsteps. Running. Splashing in puddles. A hand pushing away his dirty, wet hair. He could not see their face.

A pair of fingers pressed against his neck. A shaky sigh of relief.

Then two arms pulled him close, gently, so that his face was pressed against a warm chest, but it was still enough to make him give a pained whimper. The person shushed him. His body left the ground.

His world went dark.

* * *

When Morro awoke, he was somewhere warm. Somewhere soft. He did not want to open his eyes in fear that it would vanish. What oddity it was, to wake somewhere like this.

"Morro?" someone spoke. Their voice was soft. Comforting. Safe. "Are you awake?"

He hummed, burying deeper into the soft thing that his head was laid on. A hand stroked his hair.

"It's okay," the soft voice whispered. "Go back to sleep."

He did.

* * *

When Morro woke up again, he opened his eyes and felt a flash of confusion as he took in his surroundings. He was in a room, in a bed, with a wooden floor and beautiful paintings on the wall. A shuttered window was next to a dresser. He did not know what time it was.

His body ached and throbbed. White bandages were wrapped tightly around his chest, his forearm, and his foot. When he tried to sit up, pain erupted in his chest and he gasped, collapsing back down.

Morro lay there for a moment, panting. Then he got up again, this time more slowly, and was able to slide out of the bed, taking the blanket with him and wrapping it around his shoulders. He carefully put weight on his hurt foot, wincing.

He realised, with a start, that he was wearing a pair of soft sea-green pyjamas that he'd never seen before. He ran a hand along the fabric covering his stomach and was mesmerised by how perfectly the clothes fitted him.

He limped over to the door, the blanket dragging on the ground behind him like a large cape. He had to stretch slightly to reach the handle, but he was able to do it and slid the door open, peeking his head out into a familiar hall.

The Monastery. He must be in the Monastery. How did he get here?

Morro limped down the hall, wondering where Wu was. Every window he passed was hidden behind drawn curtains, and most of the lights were off, the few that were on having been dimmed, casting a warm orange glow along the floors and walls.

He eventually came to the door that he knew led to Wu's room. He'd scarcely been inside, but he'd seen the blond man entering and leaving it and had been led in once to be given new clothes.

The boy hesitated, staring at the door, wondering if he should knock. Would Wu be mad at him for waking him up?

Behind him, a toilet flushed, causing Morro to jump. He turned around, just as the door that had previously been to his back opened, revealing Wu in black-white pyjamas.

The blond man stopped in the bathroom doorway, the two staring at each other in equal surprise. Wu blinked. "Morro? What are you doing up?"

Morro opened his mouth to answer, but no words reached his lips. "Uh..."

Wu looked up at his bedroom door, then back down at the young boy in front of him. His brow furrowed in concern and he crouched down. "Are you feeling alright? Any pain?"

The street rat blinked, then shook his head. "Nothing bad."

The man smiled. "Good." He stood up, offering his hand. Morro stared at it for a moment, before taking it. His hand hardly fit Wu's palm.

"Let's get you back to bed."

Morro did not return to his alley.

* * *

Once his bones had mended and his bruises had healed, Wu started teaching Morro how to defend himself. How to fight. Wu told him to call him 'Sensei Wu' for now on. Morro did not object. He did everything Wu told him to.

Morro was not strong. But Morro was not weak.

* * *

Sensei Wu gave him a kite. Some kind of 'toy.' Wu said it's supposed to fly.

So Morro made it fly.

* * *

His Sensei told him of the Green Ninja. Of the power the one chosen would possess. The Golden Weapons would speak the truth.

Morro promised to make Wu proud.

* * *

He was getting stronger. His ribs were no longer jutting out of his skin. Muscles stretched along his body. The kids that had been told to fight him were knocked down within moments.

Morro felt pride. Wu did not.

* * *

The Golden Weapons did not glow. Morro's heart plummeted to his stomach. He said he'd train harder. Be better. Wu shook his head.

Rage boiled in Morro's chest. He broke the door. Ran into the courtyard. He climbed a tree and hid amongst the leaves. He feared Wu would kick him back to the streets, for he had failed to make him proud. Failed to be the wearer of the green gi.

Morro cried.

* * *

He tried to prove himself. Wu saved him. He tried to prove himself again. Once more, Wu saved him. Morro could not sleep for fear of waking in an alley. Alone.

So Morro left.

To prove himself.

* * *

Two years passed. Five since he'd first met Wu. He'd survived the cave in.

If only he'd been on the other side of it. By the exit.

* * *

He was getting hungry. He ate the bugs that scurried along the ground. He licked at the water dripping down the walls. It was not enough.

He wanted Wu.

But there was no Wu to save him. Not this time.

* * *

Morro screamed. He clawed at the walls until his nails broke and his fingers were smeared with blood. He tried to escape. No use.

He was starving. Alone.

* * *

Morro went to sleep.

He did not wake up.

* * *

Wu's old bones creaked and cracked as he walked. His staff tapped against the ground. It was raining, a little drizzle that pitter-pattered against the top of his umbrella.

The Ninja were on the other side of Ninjago, visiting a new theme park based solely on rollercoasters. While Wu was quite the fan of Ferris wheels and fun houses, even he had to admit that he'd gotten far too old for the twists and turns of modern roller coasters.

Misako was visiting the old Anacondrai tomb. Something about wanting to see if she can find out more about them, most probably because a certain Anacondrai was threatening her sons' life.

Abruptly, Wu felt eyes boring into the back of his skull. He stopped, then turned around, his eyes locking with a ghost sitting on the ground beneath a small roof jutting out the side of a house.

For a long moment, Wu and Morro simply stared at each other. What with the rain, it was painfully obvious that Morro wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. The real question, the true question, was whether or not Wu was going to continue his stroll.

He walked towards the ghost. Stopped just outside the small dry spot. Morro said nothing.

"How are you here, Morro?" Wu asked quietly. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the ghost seemed to almost curl into himself, as though he were a child being scolded.

"I don't know."

A silence descended upon them. It was not tense. It wasn't uncomfortable either. Perhaps it was cautious. Wu found that he was having trouble coming up with the right word.

"The Ninja aren't here," said Wu. He was not entirely sure why. "Neither is Misako. They're gone for the week."

At this information, Morro seemed to relax, if only slightly. He shifted where he sat, bowing his head in something like shame.

Slowly, using his staff for support, Wu lowered himself to a crouch, his old knees cracking. For a long moment, there was nothing but the patter of raindrops, and Wu wondered if he was truly going to do what he was about to do.

Then he realised that _of course_ he was. This was Morro. _His_ Morro.

"Would you like to come inside?" he asked.

Morro stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. Then he looked down, chin pressed against his chest, his long, greasy hair falling into his face.

He nodded.

* * *

 **Word Count (Without AN's): 2690**

 **Man, I love Morro. He's the best villain that's been shown so far, in my opinion. Also, Wu naming Morro and Morro only ever truly wanting to be the Green Ninja for fear of Wu kicking him out are two headcanons of mine that I came up with just before I started writing this.**

 ** _Review Replies:_**

 _ **RJ:**_ **Thank you!**

 _ **TheAmberShadow:**_ **Hey! Yeah, I'm not dead, haha. Just had a small case of writers block. Both the new Empty Echoes and Movie Mode chapters have at least been started, and I think that I'm most likely going to update Movie Mode first, since it's gone longest without an update. Also, what happened in the previous chapter is basically a non-canon short of what happened to Zane after Julian flipped his memory switch. As stated in that chapters AN, it was originally supposed to be a character study, but somehow ( _I honestly don't know how)_ turned into him almost getting murdered and accidentally murdering the murderer.**

 _ **Tardistheiftennet:**_ **Haha, why does everyone think I'd died? And thank you!**

 ** _Loki God of Evil:_ Thank you, my good sir!**


	3. Down the Road

**101 Day Writing Challenge**

 _Day Three:_

 _Write about your favourite ship_

* * *

Elementalshipping:

Down the Road

* * *

To be honest, no one was entirely sure just _how_ it had started. Nya's certain it had involved long debates and weeks, even months, of thinking it over. Kai, however, thinks it had all just clicked together at the same time. Cole and Lloyd argued that nothing was ever that simple, and that while there wasn't months of debate, there certainly wasn't any clicking together. Jay suspects that it had always been like this, but no one had really realized. Zane was quick to point out that, if this were true, then Lloyd would have been in on it while he was still a child.

Eventually, they decided to consult Sensei Wu, since he had been an onlooker from the beginning. He'd simply laughed, sipping at his steaming cup of tea, and stated that they were all right, yet all wrong.

This is how it happened.

* * *

At the back of the Destiny's Bounty, there is a spare room. It's small and unused more often than not, filled with a few old boxes that they'd been meaning to throw out.

Originally, Jay started using it as a hidy-hole, stashing sweets and certain video games beneath a loose floorboard. Then Zane started using it as a quiet place to read and meditate, and Kai would snatch Jay's DS and go there to play it. Shortly after Lloyd started living with them, Cole discovered that the room was perfect for eating things that he wasn't supposed to. Nya started going to the room to work on her Samurai gear, as either Kai or Jay had a tendency to barge into her room at random times, usually over idiotic things.

None of them had any idea that the others were also using the room, besides of course Wu, who found amusement in it. It wasn't until they discovered that Lloyd was the Green Ninja that the young boy himself started using the room, usually sitting against the wall. He brought no comic books or video games, but rather a single, faded, worn picture that he'd found beneath his uncle's bed. A picture of Wu, the mother he had never met and his father, standing between them, the only thing evil about him being the unnatural redness of his eyes.

The room was a place one went so as not to be disturbed. The room was a place of privacy, of thoughts and hidy-holes and little secrets. The room was a place one went to be alone.

The room was a place where tears would fall and masks would be shed.

* * *

It took a baffling amount of time for them to realise that they were not the only ones that used the room at the back of the Destiny's Bounty. Had it not been for Wu deciding to make a large pile of blankets and pillows in the rooms centre, just to see what would happen, he doubted that they would have ever found out.

Lloyd had been crying. He was still incredibly young, and the stress and grief of having to fight his father had led to nightmares. This one had been terribly bad, and so he had decided to go to the little room at the back of the Bounty so as to not wake the others, who slept right next door.

Kai's blanket had been one of the ones that Wu had thrown into the room earlier that day, and he had been grumbling under his breath as he was forced to sleep with the only other available blanket: an irritably scratchy yellow one that had slowly started to give him a rash.

Finally, he'd given up and thrown the blanket over a snoring Cole's head, and went in search, once again, for his favourite red one. Had it not been for this, he would not have found Lloyd in the spare room, sitting at the edge of a large pile of blankets and pillows.

Worry immediately gnawed at the fire ninja's chest, and he stepped forward, the floor boards quietly creaking beneath his feet. He sat next to the young boy, placing a comforting hand on his back. "Lloyd? You okay?"

Lloyd jumped, startled at his sudden appearance, his head snapping up from where it had been buried in his arms. His face burned red and he turned away from the older boy, hastily whipping at his tears. "K-Kai... w-what are..." he cleared his throat, "What are you doing up?"

"What are _you_ doing up?" Kai asked. Lloyd shook his head, still not turning to face him.

"Nothing, just, uh... just had a bad dream. It's fine, though."

Kai's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to ask what the dream had been about, but never got the chance, for the door opened with a loud creak.

"There you two are." whispered Zane, slipping into the room, a rather groggy looking Cole and Jay closing the door behind them, "We'd thought something was wrong." His eyes found Lloyd, and he blinked, then his brow furrowed in a frown near identical to Kai's, "Are you alright, Lloyd?"

Lloyd's face went red again, as Cole and Jay sobered up enough to take notice of the youngest members state.

"He says he had a nightmare," Kai stated, causing Lloyd's face to go redder and he hastily shook his head.

"I-It's fine, though, y-you can all go back to bed-"

"We could." Zane said. He sat down on Lloyd's other side, leaning back against the pillows and blankets, "Or you can tell us what your nightmare was about."

"Uh, no, it's- it's okay, really. It was just a really stupid dream-"

Jay collapsed on top of the pile, fidgeting so that he faced the other three, "Too late, I'm already comfy."

An amused grin tugging at his lips, Cole jumped into the pile as well, burying himself underneath so that only his head and shoulders were visible. "Me too."

"We all get nightmares, Lloyd," said Kai, stretching out onto the pile, "Having exciting lives like ours, nightmares are quite common."

"And we find that talking about them helps." Zane cut in, "You can tell us anything."

Lloyd looked around at them, a small smile tugging at his lips. His eyes shone oddly in the moonlight seeping through the window.

"Okay."

* * *

That night, they fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and blankets. The next morning, they didn't speak of the previous nights events, but how curious it was that all five of them were in rather good moods, even those who were not exactly morning people.

Time went on, and the room was used more and more. But instead of using it alone, it became a normality to find at least two people inside. Not planning anything or crying or even talking. Just sitting there, doing their own thing, enjoying each others company.

Jay moved his secret stash to a hole he'd found behind a painting. Kai began doing his gaming in the bathroom or Lloyd's room. Cole left his illegal snacking to when the room was unoccupied, or in the bathroom. Nya no longer had to hide her Samurai X gear. Whenever he had a nightmare, Lloyd would go wake up one of the Ninja, who would in turn wake up the others and they'd all go to the spare room and spend the night there. Eventually, even Nya would join in on these little sleep overs.

There was an unspoken rule that if more than two of them were absent, although this in itself was rare, there would be no sleeping in the spare room. Instead, those still there would cuddle up in each others beds, and there would be excitement bubbling in their chests when the ones that had left returned, even if they'd only been gone a day.

After Lloyd got older and he was moved into the Ninja's room, the nightmares returned with an intensity that hadn't been there before. He'd wake up with a scream on his lips, his heart pounding against his chest, his breaths ragged gasps of terror.

This, of course, would wake up everyone else on the ship. The first few times it had happened, Nya had come barging in with a samurai sword and Jay often found himself falling off the top bunk.

At the time, Lloyd had believed that there would be no more sleeping in the spare room, now that he was somewhere around the Ninja's own age (they were still trying to figure out how old he was exactly). But, much to his delight, this thought was quick to be proven wrong as they all climbed into the blankets and pillows in the spare room.

As time went on, Lloyd seemed to wake up screaming almost every night. Eventually, when it was time to go to bed, they all just went to the spare room instead of going to their own beds. While Lloyd would still have nightmares, they'd be quick to pull him close, and, eventually, he'd sleep peacefully.

Wu watched this all with an amused eye. Oh, the wonders of being in love and mistaking it as friendship.

Good thing they had their Sensei to give them a little push in the right direction.

* * *

It started out small. Wu would send them on patrols and 'training missions' to a few certain locations. Zane and Kai would find themselves on the Ferris wheel for a 'better view' at the theme park. Jay and Cole would be sent to a fancy restaurant to spy on a couple that mysteriously doesn't show up. Lloyd and Nya would go into a movie to keep an eye on practice target, who would then get a phone call and have to leave immediately for a 'family emergency.'

Then Wu started putting them in three. On Monday, Lloyd, Kai and Jay would go to the aquarium to check for Serpentine that weren't even there. On Tuesday, Cole, Nya and Zane would be sent to another restaurant because an 'anonymous person' had dropped a hint about the chef being in with a street gang. After a short break, Kai, Cole and Zane would go to a couple session to find out whether or not the teacher had Serpentine ties on Thursday. Then on the weekend, all six of them would find themselves having a picnic in the park.

If there was one thing Wu had any right to be proud of, it would be his ability to slowly bring all six of his students together in a polyamory relationship.

He deserved a Sensei of the Year Award.

* * *

After the Overlord's defeat and the evil was sucked from Garmadon's very being, things began to settle down. At Wu's insistence, the Ninja became teachers, although this did not stop them from sleeping in the same beds.

It was well known that all six of them were in a relationship. The funny thing, the _hilarious_ thing, was that none of _them_ knew it.

So when they all went to New Ninjago City on a field trip and Nya decided to try the Perfect Match Maker, many of the girls were wondering just which Ninja would show up. Most of them expected it to be Jay since he and Nya were the only ones that were actually aware of their relationship, while a few others predicted that they'd all show-up.

When Cole showed up, there were a few surprised looks, but no dramatic gasps. However, there were a few half exasperated, half amused looks shared among the girls when Nya told them never to speak of this.

* * *

Cole was not liking this 'PIXAL.'

He hated the way she'd scanned Zane and asked about his inner workings. He hated the way Zane seemed to be unable to look away from her. And from the glares Jay, Kai and Nya were giving her, it was safe to say they felt the same.

So who could blame him, really, when he practically dragged his nindroid- _their_ nindroid- into the elevator? He didn't really care where it was taking them. Anywhere was fine, as long as she wasn't there.

* * *

The sun beamed down on them. It had been quite a while since Kai had been in a Ninja suit, and the change was very welcome from the usual shirt and tie he'd been wearing for the past year.

The most welcome change, the thing that he had missed the most, was that Lloyd was back.

They were all together again.

* * *

A robot showed up at the Academy. Someone called PIXAL. The others seemed to know her, from where Lloyd did not know, and Kai, Cole, Jay and Nya seemed to have taken a liking to glaring at her.

Then the Nindroids showed up. Black, red-eyed, wielding blades and genius technology. So unlike their Zane. It was hard to believe they were the exact same design, just with an altered coding.

Zane was down.

Lloyd's vision went red.

* * *

There was too many of them. They had to move. Split up again. Jay didn't want to split up.

Zane regained consciousness just as they barred the door. He seemed quite content to stay in Lloyd's arms, who appeared to have no problem whatsoever with carrying him.

The Nindroids banged against the door. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kai give Lloyd a quick peck on the lips, before taking Zane off him. Their faces burned red.

Garmadon took his son's hand and led him away.

* * *

He wasn't letting go.

 _Why wasn't he letting go?_

They were screaming. They screamed their throats raw. They were dragged into the sewers. Zane closed his one eye. For them.

 _For them._

* * *

Anger. Bitter anger. Sadness. A mix of both.

The statue stood tall.

They did not return to the spare room.

* * *

Lloyd wanted things to go back to the way they were. He wanted Jay to quit his stupid show and make up with Cole. He wanted Cole to make up with Jay. He wanted Nya to get her head on straight and just date _both_ of them. He wanted Kai to stop blaming himself and taking it out on poor idiots who thought they'd be able to take him in a wrestling match.

He wanted Zane to come back.

Lloyd wanted everyone to just come home.

* * *

His hands shook. Disbelief curled in his chest. A flicker of hope burned in his heart. If someone were to ask, he'd tell them there was something in his eye.

 _Their Zane was alive._

* * *

He woke in a room. It was dark. Quite cold, too. His wrists were shackled to the walls.

He couldn't remember his name. The dragon haunted him. From his nightmares.

He was scared. He wanted something- no, _someone._

If only he knew who.

* * *

"I was upset about losing Nya," Jay said, "But... I was upset about losing _you_ too."

Kai didn't hear what Cole said in response, for he'd lowered his voice. Then they started to attack each other again- only, this time, it was rather obvious they were faking.

Over on his throne, Chen groaned in boredom, then pressed another button on his chair. In the arena, the floor began to fall apart. Lloyd's hand grabbed his own, squeezing it. Kai squeezed back.

Cole pressed his lips to Jay's. Then shoved the Jade Blade into his hand.

Chen cheered and giggled with excitement. Garmadon shouted something, but even Kai couldn't hear him from the sound of the other contestant's shouting in shock.

"Master of Earth loses!" Chen exclaimed. Jay shouted, reaching for Cole, but it was too late.

Cole fell through the floor with a scream.

The Jade Blade clattered to the ground.

* * *

His memory came back slowly. The girl- PIXAL, a droid like him- called him Zane.

His body felt odd. He had trouble moving his arms and legs, almost like a newborn. He stumbled into PIXAL's cell. She was scraped.

But they are compatible.

They are one.

Electricity shot through his body.

He collapsed.

* * *

Cole was holding his hand in a white-knuckled grip. His entire front was covered in white flour and he was speaking so fast that he was hardly breathing. Zane's face hurt from his own smile. He was too relieved, to happy, to care.

"We're going to get out of here." he said, slightly breathless, "We're going to get _you_ out of here, and we're going to go home."

"I'd like that." said Zane.

The guard shouted something. Cole glanced over his shoulder.

"I have to go. I'll come back for you, just hang in there."

Their hands slipped away from each other. Zane watched them go until they were out of sight.

* * *

 _"ZANE!"_

He jumped, only to be abruptly tackled to the ground as five human bodies slammed into him. There was laughter, mixed with the wetness of relieved tears, and then lips- multiple lips, different lips- were being pressed against his own.

As the day wore on, as the other Elemental Masters celebrated their victory with loud music and dancing, they did not leave each other's sides.

The day turned to night, and they all settled down inside the main hall. Wu and Garmadon had taken it upon themselves to gather as many pillows and blankets as they could and pile them together at the back of the hall.

That night, for the first time in far too long, they slept peacefully side by side.

* * *

Panic settled in Jay's chest. It had been a trap, his dragon wouldn't form, they were separated and he couldn't _breathe._

He had to get back, back to Nya and Kai and Cole and Lloyd and Zane, back to his family, back to _his boys and girl._

The panic drove logic from his mind. He tried to form his dragon again. Failed.

He couldn't breathe.

So he laughed.

* * *

 _Hold the line._

His feet slipped and slid in the mud.

 _Hole the line._

They pushed against him, in a mess of sweat and blood. It was hard to tell who was who, what was what, all he knew was that he had to push against anything purple and scaly.

 _Hole the line._

A blast of green light sent False Anacondrai flying into the walls with screams of terror. A figure, surrounded with green power, flew through the air, smashing and destroying in a pure fit of rage.

 _Hold the line._

"What's gotten into Lloyd?!" his Zane yelled into his ear. He shook his head, unable to answer, sweat beading his forehead and the back of his neck. Mud caked his shoes and calfs as the False Anacondrai pushed on stubbornly. Sand was in his eyes.

 _Hold the line._

They were pushing through. He saw Jay get knocked to the ground.

 _Hold the line._

Shouting. Screaming. A beam of blue and light shot into the sky. A scream, louder than the others, a familiar scream that caused his head to snap in the direction of the Destiny's Bounty.

 _Hold the line._

The False Anacondrai were sucked into the air, up, up, towards the cloud of blue and white that had appeared in the sky. Screaming. Flaying. Crying for help. Some of them were already dead.

 _Hold the line._

* * *

They were in their pile. Their old pile, the one in the spare room. Lloyd in the middle. Crying.

They held him all night.

* * *

Things died down. Wu announced that he had decided to finally retire. Open a tea shop. They, of course, agreed to help him set it up.

They didn't really approve of the uniforms, though.

* * *

Terror gripped him. The wind rushed through his hair. This was not his Lloyd.

 _"I'll look after you from now on."_

* * *

Lloyd struggled. Fought. Kicked. Punched. Scratched and bit. No use.

He grew weaker with every moment.

* * *

Lloyd and Nya were not with them. But it would be okay. Because they weren't alone.

If only Lloyd and Nya weren't alone.

* * *

Zane's language database was damaged. Kai apologised by kissing him.

He seemed at least a little happier after that.

* * *

The temple loomed over them. Cole did not like the looks of it.

But it wasn't like ghosts were real.

* * *

Lloyd's dead body hung from the ceiling. Then Kai's. Then Cole's. Jay's. Nya's. They hung by hooks through their throats. Zane couldn't look away. He realised he was crying.

They had to drag him into the other room.

* * *

Zane was curled up in Cole's lap. Trembling. Jay wondered how he could have even thought up such a brutal scene.

Kai whispered reassurance to their nindroid. Told him they were still here. That they were alright.

Perhaps it was only Jay, but he felt like they were being watched.

* * *

The clock dinged. The rope grew taunt. Then limp.

Jay didn't realise why until it was too late.

* * *

Cole sat on the bed. See through. Green.

Nya held him close. Did her best, anyway. Kissed his forehead.

She wasn't sure he'd felt it.

* * *

"What if I fall?!" Cole shouted.

"Then we'll catch you!" Kai shouted back, "We'll jump off this mountain and we'll catch you!"

"You're more than our brother, Cole!" yelled Jay, "You've always been more than our brother! Zane's different, but we still love him! And the same applies for you- for _all_ of us!"

Cole took a shaky breath. Close his eyes. "Okay."

He jumped.

Fell.

Then flew.

* * *

They fell down the mountain in a boat. Morro and his ghosts were just ahead of them.

The boat fell apart.

They used this to their advantage.

* * *

"Take the sword," Lloyd gasped, "Take the sword, Kai!"

"Lloyd?" he felt the sword being yanked from his numb hand. The deck was closer to this head than it had been before. Arms wrapped around him. "Come on, Lloyd! Fight him!"

He was pushed to the back of his own mind.

Morro took control.

* * *

He was himself again. He tried to stand. His legs shook and he fell. Morro grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Held him up. The blade pressed against his throat.

The Realm Crystal flew towards them. Morro caught it. Screamed in pain. It fell, down, down into the water bellow. Lloyd swayed.

Then fell after it.

* * *

Water. In his mouth, in his ears. He tried to stay afloat. He could see Cole and Kai running after him. Shouting about how they couldn't go in the water. The current dragged him under.

Kai leapt in.

* * *

He was dragged onto land. Soaking. Coughing. Someone held him up.

"I-I'm sorry." he coughed, shaking. Trembling. "I-I'm sorry."

He was shushed. Lips pressed against his face. All over. More than one pair.

Lloyd sunk into their warmth.

* * *

Misako wouldn't let her son out of her sight. Neither would the Ninja. His strength came back slowly. He wasn't allowed out of bed.

He kept saying sorry.

They shushed him every time.

* * *

Ghosts were everywhere. The tentacles grabbed his limbs in a deadly grip. Lifted him up, up, up.

He heard them scream.

Then he went through.

* * *

Portal after portal after portal. Realm after realm after realm.

The chase wore on. Unrelentless.

Don't stop running. His lungs burned.

Stop and it's over.

* * *

"Lloyd? What are you doing here?"

His legs shook. Hands trembled. He realised, at the back of his mind, that his face was streaked with tears.

Lloyd fell to his knees. Wrapped his arms around his father.

He cried into his shoulder.

* * *

The Preeminent stepped into the water. Screams of dying ghosts.

They were running out of fuel. The boat's occupants shouted and screamed and ran around the deck.

Nya stood in the middle of the chaos.

She began to glow. Spread her arms.

A wave rose at her command.

* * *

Photo shoots. Filming. The flash of cameras.

It was nice, at first. To be recognised for their saving of the world.

It got annoying after a while, though.

* * *

"Nya, take my hand!" Jay said. She turned away. Glared at the ground.

She didn't take his hand.

* * *

Clouse twitched on the ground. Gasping. Agony flared across his body. The Djinn watched in amusement.

He wished it all away.

* * *

Wu was the first to go. Then Misako.

They weren't sure what to do. Who to turn to. They'd always been there.

They went to Stiix.

* * *

Lloyd did not want to split up. Jay was right. Bad things _always_ happened when they were split up.

But they had little choice.

* * *

The plan was in motion. Everything was falling into place.

Then Kai was gone.

* * *

Jay's heart pounded. He'd made a mistake. The letter fluttered to the ground.

He began to run.

* * *

Lies. Lies. They were thick on his tongue. Like mould peanut butter.

Zane went bellow deck. He begged for him not to.

He didn't come back up.

* * *

Wishes. Wishes. Wish it all away.

It only it was truly that simple.

* * *

He was on his hands and knees. A chain on his ankle. Scrubbing. Scrubbing.

He deserved this.

* * *

The eyepatch was blue. His favourite colour.

It was all coming true.

He hopped that meant everyone was going to be okay.

* * *

Cole was there. Relief shone in his eyes. He pressed his ghostly lips to Jay's.

Jay held him close.

* * *

Lloyd and Cole were gone. Sucked into the damn sword.

They were falling. Falling. He wondered why she didn't just form her own dragon. Why she fell with him.

Their hands interlocked.

Water and lightning mixed.

* * *

The lighthouse was covered in cobwebs after all these years of abandonment. The little tea server, Gizmo if Jay's memory was correct, was still in working order.

So was something else. He thought it was actually Zane for a moment.

Despite his disappointment, he found that he quite liked Echo.

* * *

They prepared for the attack. Echo kept falling apart.

Jay made a mental note to fix him up once this was all over.

* * *

Nya's lips pressed against his. Then she pushed him through.

He gasped. Screamed.

He fell.

* * *

Jay could see her. Through the window. She looked so beautiful in that dress, but then again she looked beautiful in everything.

Then he couldn't get to the window. The pirates were everywhere.

But he got the sword.

* * *

"Someone has to strike me down."

They all raised their hand. He glared at them and handed the sword to Echo.

"Do it when I say go."

"Wait!" Skylor cut in, "What are we supposed to do if you don't come back?"

Jay blinked, then nodded, "Right. If I don't come back, go-"

"Go?"

"No!"

The sword cut through his flesh. Then he was sucked inside.

* * *

It was almost like swimming. With giant, green crystals everywhere. Jay was getting drowsy.

He couldn't let himself close his eyes.

He grabbed them, one by one. Shook them awake. Brushed away the crystals that had formed on their skin and clothes. Kissed them to try and wake them up more. To wake _himself_ up more as well.

Clause grabbed his foot.

He kicked him in the face.

* * *

There was a lot of cheering after they returned to the real world. Arms wrapped around him. Lips pressed against lips.

There was only one of them missing.

* * *

They were turned into gold statues. Jay's heart pounded. He feared it couldn't be undone.

Flintlocke fired. A green splatter on Nadakhan chest. He fell down.

Nya reached for him. Horror gripped Jay's chest.

A green splatter covered the front of her dress.

* * *

They were huddled around her. Clutching her close. Crying. Jay pressed his forehead to hers. Behind him. Nadakhan struggled to stay afloat. Raised his sword.

"I wish you had taken my hand," Jay whispered, "And no one had ever found that teapot in the first palce."

The Djiin gasped. His sword clattered on the ground.

"Your wish..."

Jay opened his one eye.

"...Is yours to keep."

* * *

Memories flashed across his minds eye. Nya raised her head. Locked eyes with Jay. They all came down from the billboard.

With the whole world watching, six pairs of lips connected at once.

* * *

 **Word Count (No AN's): 4659**

 **Writing romance isn't really my strong suit, so I hope this is at least descent.**


	4. ART

**Oh, an update every day, they said. It won't be _that_ hard, they said. Just write at least two days and post them one at a time, they said. IT'LL BE FINE THEY SAID.**

 ***sigh* ... I'm bad with updates.**

* * *

 **101 Day Writing Challenge**

 _Day Four:_

 _Put in a self-insert OC._

* * *

Me:

 _A.R.T._

* * *

Grunting. Quiet giggling. They stared at the alley's entrance for a long moment, where two figures could be seen in the shadows, on the ground. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they crossed the street. A necklace shone in the frost.

A surprised gasp echoed through the alley, causing them to abruptly stop in their tracks. A man, sitting on top of someone they couldn't make out, either a child or just someone short. The person brought their knee up, ramming it into the man's back, again and again, trying desperately to throw him off.

The man grunted in annoyance, letting go of something close to the person's face with one hand and twisting so that he could pin the person's legs in the snow. The person struggled and thrashed, letting out small cries and grunts, but it was of no use.

"Poor, poor little Link Rat," the man whispered, "Poor, lost, _stupid_ little Link Rat."

With the ease of pulling a straw from a cup of water, the man yanked an object out of the person's hands. Their heart stopped. It was a knife, it's silver blade glinting. Eager for blood.

The man held the knife over his head. Their eyes landed on a rock, just a few steps away from where they stood. The person underneath the man- a boy- covered their face with their arm, their other hand reaching out blindly for something, anything.

Taking a few steps forward, they kicked the rock towards the boy. It skidded across the snow, rolling and skipping, before coming to a stop just inches from the boy's hand. The man looked down at it, surprised, just as his victims hand curled around it.

His eyes flared. He brought down the knife.

The boy raised the rock and hit him right in the mouth. The knife clattered to the ground. One moment, the man was on top of the boy, then he was thrown back into the snow. The next moment, the boy was on top of the man, hitting him in the face with the rock again and again and again, until the snow was a mess of bloody crimson and broken teeth, until the boy's entire hand was stained red.

Trembling, the boy stumbled backwards. Staring. Clothes red. The man didn't move, his face swollen, covered in blood and saliva. The rock fell into the snow.

He didn't see them, standing only a few feet away. In fact, he was already running out the other end of the alley before they could even register what was happening.

They called after him.

They're not sure he heard.

* * *

Samukai watched them. His eyeless holes narrowed in form of a suspicious glare. They smiled at him, before returning to their sketchpad. Pencil against paper.

"Who are you?" the Master of the Axe questioned, one of his four arms reaching for the weapon strapped to his hip. "How did you get in here?"

"Oh, I'm many things." they said, not looking up from their drawing, "I'm an Artist, for example. In many ways."

"An artist?" Samukai echoed. They smiled, nodding. The skeleton scowled. "That doesn't explain how you got in here." he drew his axe, it's double edges gleaming in the torch light of the warrior's personal chambers, "Or _why_ you're here."

They lifted their shoulders in a shrug. Ran their hand through their short, spikey hair. "It's certainly complicated, I'll give you that. Hell, I don't know why I'm here."

Samukai stared. Then growled. "Then get out. Before your flesh meets my axe."

"I can't."

"What? You don't know how to use a door?"

They put down their pencil. "Depends on what kind of door you're talking about."

With a cry of rage, Samukai charged, bringing his axe down right on the intruders head- but they weren't there anymore. The skeleton hardly had enough time to be confused before they reappeared right next to him, their entire body flickering for a few moments, then solidifying.

Samukai gaped at them. Then, his teeth grinding, he once more raised his axe and, with a perfectly practised battle cry, sliced right through their chest. But, once again, they vanished before the axe's edge could even graze their clothes.

He looked left and right, but the intruder was nowhere to be found.

"You know," he jumped, spinning on his heel, to find that they'd reappeared directly behind him. They sent him a tiny smile. "It's rude to attempt to murder a guest."

"How did you do that?" Samukai growled, "What _are_ you?"

"I've told you." they said, sliding their pencil and sketchpad into their hoodie pocket, "I'm many things." Then they vanished again, reappearing right in Samukai's face, their nose inches from where his own had once been. His axe was on the floor. He couldn't remember it leaving his hand.

"An artist, for example." they smiled, the freckles on their cheeks stretching. Samukai's bones began to tremble, unable to tear his eyeless holes from theirs. He noticed, at the back of his mind, that they were an odd colour. A brown, tinted green. "So," they said, "I suppose you can call me Art."

Samukai swallowed.

"I'd rather you didn't try to kill me, by the way," art leant away, but Samukai remained as tense as ever. They turned, strolling casually towards the door. "I shouldn't be here long." they paused. "Usually, anyway."

Then they vanished.

* * *

Garmadon's hand trailed across the polished table. A cup of steaming tea sat in front of him, but he'd only taken a few sips. Tea was more of Wu's thing, after all.

Art sat across from him, sipping at their own cup. The little house was filled with silence.

"So," he said, scratching at his ear, "Where are your, uh... friends?"

They shrugged, setting their cup down on the table. "I think Red's in Minecraftia. Something about a Redstone Convention. Gommie and Ariza are visiting Terra."

"Terra." Garmadon echoed. Then, in an even more confused voice, "Minecraftia?"

Art waved him off. "Let's just say they're out of town. So," they picked up their tea again, taking a large, long gulp of the liquid. They smacked their lips once they pulled it away, "What brings you here?"

Garmadon swallowed. "Misako's pregnant."

They froze. Slowly sat down their cup. "I... I see."

"I need your help." Garmadon said, hating but not fully caring how his voice wavered, "What if... what if they... what if they're..." he took a shuddering breath, "Like me?"

Art stared at him for a long moment. Ran a finger along the handle of their cup. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I can't be a dad," Garmadon whispered. His face was pale. Scared. His red eyes shone in the room's light. "I-I can't be. I want to be, but I _can't_. Not... not like this." His head lowered, eyes staring at the two faded little scars just bellow his thumb. Twin puncture marks.

"You're not scared that he might inherit your..." Art hesitated, "Desires?"

Garmadon's head snapped up. Art immediately regretted their choice of words. "What? You- You think that could be possible?" when they didn't answer, he groaned, burying his head into his arms, "Oh god, no... I can't do that to a little baby."

Heart twisting, Art reached out and placed their hand on Garmadon's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I don't think there's much I can do," they admitted, "But... there's always the chance that I'm wrong."

"You're an inter-dimensional alien with future vision that'll be reborn no matter how many times you die," groaned Garmadon, head still buried in his arms, "You were right about the Serpentine Wars, about Acronix and Krux, about _everything_. How is there any chance that you're wrong?"

Art scoffed. "Oh, please. You hardly heard half of it." their eyes softened, "Garmadon, 'future vision'- and it's not called that, for the millionth time- isn't what you think it is. It's complicated. It must be the most complicated thing in the entire universe." They shook their head, sighing, "It's not like reading a book or watching a film. I see different outcomes in everything I look at. When you think about it, we all have future vision. I just know for a fact which ones are most likely. But there's _never_ anything solid. Ever."

Garmadon raised his head a little, a tiny bit of hope shinning in his eyes. Art gave him a sad smile. "Your son inheriting the Devourer's Venom is possible. But there's always a chance that it's not going to happen."

For a moment, he just stared at them. Then he sighed, straightening and giving them a grateful look. "Thank you, Anthony."

"Anytime."

A content silence descended upon them, Garmadon once again staring at the scars on his hand. Then his head snapped up, so fast that Art was almost certain they'd heard his neck crack, looking at them with wide red eyes.

"I'm having a boy?"

* * *

Lloyd wandered. He wasn't the best at reading maps, but he convinced himself that it would all be worth it once the Serpentine were under his control. Then they would pay. They would all pay.

And maybe, just maybe, his father will come back.

He found himself in a little village, just a few more miles from the Serpentine tomb he was heading towards. People mulled about, minding their own business, and while some of them glanced at him, they made no move to stop or question him. So he ignored them.

He was tired, though. Incredibly tired. His lugs ached and wobbled from the non-stop walking, his stomach growling loudly in his ears. His eyes were heavy, and he was desperate need of a laydown.

Spotting a bench a little ways away, Lloyd stumbled over to it, practically collapsing onto its cold metal surface. It was green, one of those benches made up of small bars with tiny little gaps between them. But Lloyd was far too exhausted to care.

A hand, shaking his shoulder, was what awoke him. Grumbling, sore, Lloyd forced open his eyes and was startled to realise that the sun had set, and that the sky was now speckled with stars. He rubbed at his eyes, turning to look at the one who'd woken him up.

It was... well, they looked to be in their late teens. He was having trouble telling whether or not it was a boy or a girl. Their hair was brown, short and spikey, and they regarded him behind a pair of black glasses.

Lloyd blinked, then scowled. "What do you want?"

"You're sleeping on a bench."

His jaw clenched, red eyes hardening into a glare. His hands curled into fists. "Yeah? So?"

"It looks uncomfortable." they crouched down, cocking their head to the side like a curious puppy, "I like your eyes. They remind me of some friends of mine."

Lloyd glanced to the side, unsure how to respond. As far as he knew, the only other person in the world with red eyes was his dad. But that was impossible. "Er... thanks."

A silence fell upon them. Lloyd was starting to get uncomfortable.

"Why are you out here, Lloyd?" they asked.

"I never told you my name."

"What other eight year old has red eyes?" they smiled at him. Lloyd didn't answer.

After a long moment of silence, the person shrugged, sitting back on their heels. Watching him. Awkwardly, Lloyd rubbed the back of his head, adjusting his hood while he was at it.

Finally, he could bare the silence no more. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Many things," they said, almost automatically. They shrugged. "I've got many names too."

"Well, are you going to tell me one?" Lloyd asked, starting to get annoyed.

"Art'll do," they said. Lloyd blinked, looking them up and down.

"Are you a boy or a girl?"

They smiled. "No."

Lloyd stared. "Then... what are you?"

"Me."

"That's not very specific."

"Who are you to say what's specific?"

Lloyd groaned, "What does that even _mean_?"

Art giggled, far too amused for Lloyd's liking. Scowling, he hopped off the bench. "Just leave me alone."

"Would you like to come inside?"

Lloyd froze. Peeked at them over his shoulder. "Excuse me?"

"Would you like to come inside?" Art repeated, "You look hungry."

The eight year old turned around. They stared at each other. After a moment, Art's eyes widened.

"That came out wrong."

"I'm leaving."

"At least take this." Art said hurridly, standing up. They dug their hand into their pocket, pulling out a small pouch. They threw it at Lloyd, who caught it automatically. The coins jingled against each other inside.

Lloyd looked up, eyes wide in shock. Art gestured to the pouch.

"Don't spend that all on sweets."

Dumbly, Lloyd nodded. He looked down at the pouch, then back at Art, not sure what to do. Then he spun on his heels and ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Art watched him go.

 _You owe me, Garmadon._

* * *

Ronin wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten into his current position. Some kind of metal violin song was playing on his radio and there was a bespectacled teenager with their feet up on his dashboard sitting in the front passenger seat of his beloved Rex.

"Remind me what this is again?" he asked.

"Lindsay Stirling." they said, tapping their foot along with the song, "One of the few songs that I actually listen to that doesn't have any singing."

Ronin raised an eyebrow at them, but didn't comment further. For a long time, there was nothing but the hum of the engine, as they flew across the sky. To Ronin, this was as natural as driving to the shops, and he was rather surprised that this teenager seemed completely unphased. Most people that he took on Rex, especially on the first time, would either be right up close to the window or frozen in their seats.

He glanced out his side window. Then back at Toni. "How did this happen again?"

Toni smiled. "I won a bet."

Ronin blinked. "When?"

"Last week." a pause. "You were drunk."

Ronin sighed. "Of course I was." he rubbed at his forehead, "What was the bet?"

"That I could shoot a bottle while swinging on a swing set with a slingshot." Toni glanced at him out of their corner of their eye, "We got it on video, if you want proof."

"No, thank you."

* * *

Oh, hello," said Art, a kind smiling dancing on their lips as the nindroid slowly ascended the stairs, "Fancy seeing you here."

The rusty nindroid cocked his head to the side, regarding them curiously. "I am Zane. Built to protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"I'm many things." they grinned, "But you can call me Art. Or Toni, if you like."

Echo blinked. "Artoni?"

Art snorted. "Yeah, if you'd like."

"How did you get here?" he asked, cautiously sitting down across from them at the table. Art shrugged.

"I got many places, at many times. It depends, really, on what's most likely to happen."

"What does that mean?" asked Echo-Zane.

"It means," said Artoni, "That someone else is going to come to this lighthouse. Probably sooner rather then later. Now, Zane, these people are either going to be good or really, really bad. It's uncertain who is going to arrive exactly."

Echo simply blinked. "Huh?"

"Depending on who arrives, you could either live or die." Artoni continued, as though he hadn't spoken. Echo's eyes widened, and he shared a look with Gizmo as the little tea-server handed their guest a cup of tea, which they happily accepted. Artoni sipped at it. "So, to prevent that, I'm here to tell you that when these people arrive at the lighthouse, don't go up and say hello, okay? If they're nice, there'll probably only be four of them, six at the very most. Got it?"

Hesitantly, Echo nodded. Art smiled.

"Good." they pointed at the tea-server, "You make brilliant tea, by the way."

Gizmo beeped.

* * *

They walked down the street. Gommie was with them, her green-streaked hair tied back into a braid. It was early morning, the air damp with mist, the sun having only just risen.

The box was tucked underneath Toni's arm, a golden claps holding it closed. The tiny key was held in Gommie's clenched hand, it's silver chain wrapped around her knuckles. She glanced at them.

"You sure we should do this?"

Toni hummed. "If Soren insists on bringing him back, we need to do the same here, otherwise the whole place is going to go whacko."

"And you're certain that's how it works?" asked Gommie, as they turned and began to cross through a children's park.

"No _p_ e." Toni admitted, popping the 'p.' They glanced at the sky. "Got any idea who Carrot is yet?"

"No _p_ e." Gommie copied. Toni grinned at her.

They walked up a long dirt path, climbing up a hill. Once they came to the top, Toni panting a little but Gommie unphased, they sat down, cross-legged, in a large patch of grass.

Toni sat down the navy blue box, it's golden lining shinning in the morning sunlight. They shared a look with Gommie, who unwound the key from her hand and stuck it inside the lock, twisting it until there was a tiny _click_.

Pulling out a knife, Toni pressed it to the top of their arm, holding it above the box. They shared one last look. Toni nodded. With that, Gommie threw the box open.

Immediately, Toni slashed the knife across their arm, blood welling in the wood and dribbling down into the box- except, there wasn't a bottom. In fact, there didn't even appear to be any sides. It was just a swirling blue-black vortex. If you listened closely, you could almost hear voices, whispering, to you, to each other. Some of them were screaming.

Within seconds, Gommie had snapped the box shut again, locking it once more with the key. Toni dug into their hoodie pocket and pulled out a roll of bandages, wrapping it around their new wound tightly. Once the box was securely under her arm, Gommie began to help.

Toni's wound bandaged, Gommie pulled something out of her own pocket, wrapped in a green cloth. She sat it where the box had been not moments before, which wasn't hard to find because, where there had once been some slightly damp grass, was now nothing but a charred black spot, as though it had been burned away.

Slowly, Gommie unwrapped the thing from the cloth- it was a skull. An old skull, covered in cobwebs. A human skull.

The two friends rose. Looked at the skull for a long moment.

Then they turned and began walking back to the village.

* * *

"So," said Wu conversationally, sipping at his steaming cup of tea, "It _was_ you that brought him back."

It was not a question. Toni shrugged, drinking their own tea instead of answering. "Who else did you think it was?"

Wu hummed. "Well, I considered there being some sort of breach. Clouse got out, after all. And there's also the fact that Sensei Yang opened the Rift a few months ago."

"How did the others react?" Toni asked. Wu let out a long breath.

"I've only told Misako. She's coming back early because of it. My students, however, haven't got a clue that he's even returned. Let them enjoy their vacation."

"Or tell them now," said Toni, "And let them steam over it for the few days before coming back." Wu seemed to consider that for a moment, but then shook his head.

"No, no. It's bad enough that they're coming home to this. As I said," he took another sip of tea, "Let them enjoy their vacation."

Toni shrugged, drinking their own tea. Blinking, they turned to the door, their eyes locking with a pair of green ones. The eyes widened, then quickly disappeared.

Wu followed their gaze, a sigh escaping his lips. "Morro," he called, "There's no need to spy. Come in."

A moment passed. Then the door slide open slowly, and Morro poked his face in, a sheepish look on his features. Wu gestured for him to come over.

Hesitantly, Morro did so, closing the door behind him. He moved to sit next to Wu, but hesitated, and instead sat on either side of them, so that they formed a small circle.

"Anthony," said Wu, gesturing to the ghost, "This is Morro."

Toni smiled at him. "Hey, Morro."

Morro sent her a hesitant look, glancing at Wu, "Uh... hello."

Still smiling, Toni turned to Wu, raising a questioning eyebrow, silently asking if they should tell him that they were the one to bring him back. Wu shook his head.

"So, Morro," said Toni, "How long have you known Wu?"

Morro shrugged, hunching in on himself. Toni blinked at him.

"Morro and I," Wu began, once it became obvious Morro had no plans on answering, "Have known each other for quite a few years. I took him off the streets when he was little."

"You two must be pretty close then." Toni said. Morro's cheeks tinted a slightly darker green.

Abruptly, there was a loud knocking on the door. Wu blinked, then sat down his tea cup and climbed to his feet. "Excuse me, Anthony," he said, beginning to make his way out into the hall. He vanished behind the door.

Silence descended upon them. Toni sipped at their tea, ignoring the feeling of Morro's eyes on the side of their head.

Finally, Morro broke the silence. "Who are you?"

"I'm many things." said Toni, setting their cup down. They smiled at him.

"But my full name is Anthony Roser Takala."

* * *

 **Word Count (No AN's): 3.636 words.**

 **Alrighty, so Anthony Roser Takala isn't, of course, my real name. My username's Toni, so I just thought Anthony fitted. My previous online 'surname' had been Typewriter, but I eventually started to find that a little bit stupid, so I changed it to Takala (which, fun fact, means 'dweller in the back.' Spot on character description). As for Roser, that's my real middle name. It wasn't until I was actually writing this that I realised my initials were A.R.T., so I added that in too!**

 **Again, so sorry for the late update. I was really stuck with this one, and went through multiple different ideas. Then I just decided to add myself in the last scene of the first chapter and it just kind of extended from there.**

 **Also, some of you are probably wondering about the whole pronouns thing. My preferred pronouns are they/their or, if I HAVE to choose between traditional genders, he/him. I am Agender. There is nothing wrong with that, and I will block you if you so much as say anything bad about mine or any other genders.**

 **Review Replies:**

 _ **RJ:**_ **Oh, thank you!**

 _ **Yesimevil:**_ ***takes deep breath* YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**

 ** _Loki God of Evil:_ *snort* I like you.**


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